I Still Can't Believe It

Man, I should start a blog documenting my bruises. How exciting would that be? The one I'm currently sporting from last Thursday's soccer game pretty much takes up the entire front of my calf/shin. Good thing I don't like wearing skirts and the weather has been such that I can wear pants every day. Because good god almighty, it's an ugly one. Kind of along the same lines as my last post, the title of this post was a "song" we (my brother Jasoners and I) made up when we were kids. This song had a very definite purpose: to instill fear in our younger brother (Big Thirsty/Hungry or BT for short). It worked really well. We'd start chanting it over and over and inevitably BT would start crying. Say he ripped the ass out of his pants - the new pants Mom bought for him to wear to school but he hadn't changed out of - we'd start the chant and he knew we'd be running to Momma to rat on him. Poor BT. After all that emotional abuse, my parents ...

Kookaburra sits in the ol' gum tree Merry Merry king of the bush is he Laugh Kookaburra, laugh Kookaburra Gay your life must be! - Nursery rhyme I used to sing when I pretended to be my brothers' teacher. I think I was probably the worst little kid teacher EVER since I'm pretty sure I'd smack them if they quit paying attention. Or laughed at me. Or argued with me. Or disregarded my teaching altogether. I had high standards, even then. Luckily, I didn't grow up and become a teacher, so you can all breathe a sigh of relief. Oh and sorry brothers! Love you! Mean it!  

When you're Kim and it's your birthday. Happy birthday to my longtime friend. I hope that you had a fan-fucking-tastic birthday, even with the drama from yesterday.  

I've written of my most awesome friend JoySoy Habanero before . And she's one of the few, the proud, the commenters on this here site. And today? Today is JSH's birthday! It's also Roald Dahl , Mel Torme and FABIO CANNAVARO's birthday today, but none of them, not EVEN Fabio is more fabulous than JoySoy Habanero. No contest. Recently, JSH came along on a family dinner outing, complete with my grandparents and all my brothers and their wives. She sat next to my Grandpa and she had him giggling like a little kid for most of the dinner. My Grandpa was recently diagnosed with prostate and lung cancer and whenever I see him, I know the likelihood is greater that this could be the last time. But that night at dinner, I didn't think about him having cancer once and I dare say that with JoySoy at his side, I don't think he did either. That's what JSH brings to the table and it's just ONE of the reasons I love her so. Here's JoySoy arm-wrestling my Mom a...

Earlier this summer, I noticed a pair of shoes thrown over the power line behind my office building. A few of my coworkers commented on it and we postulated what it was all about. I think the first theory put forward said the shoes meant there was a drug dealer in the neighborhood open for business. Other theories were posited: it means you're entering the ghetto or it means people are fucking stupid were my two favorites. Ha ha, days go by and no one thinks anything of it. Cut to last week. On just a few power lines, there are now 12 pairs of shoes dangling in the wind. on various power lines and on street lights (you can see one of those in the picture). What started as a lone pair of sneakers has now developed into a raging case of What The Fuck? Twelve pairs? Who is donating shoes to this cause and who is chucking them up there? The Bleeding Heart ide of me thinks there are plenty of kids that would love to wear any pair of those shoes as they all look worn, but stil...

I'm fortunate in that I live really close to work. As in, I can drive home, get some Corn Dog & Cassady time in, make lunch, eat, more dog time, and then drive home in the span of an hour. Oh, and apparently, I now have time to blog on lunch. Yum, french bread pizza... So much has happened in the last few days. To catch up: we went camping with the dogs and NOT to the Piney. Remarkable. Most important thing learned: our dogs are the bad pulling on the leash, barking, whining every time another dog goes by, sounding vicious towards men types of dogs everyone hates. Super. So, time to renew efforts at dog training because the actual camping part was fucking great. Pictures on Flickr soon. What else? Steve "Crikey, She's a Beaut" Irwin died from a stingray through the chest. Shocking and not shocking at the same time - but anyone with an empathetic bone in their body has to feel for Terri, Bindi and Bo. And is Suey still around? It's my brother's birthday tod...

...You pull clothes out of your closet that you haven't worn in a few months and you find money in the pocket? And usually it's all crispy and folded funny because it went through the washer and dryer in the pocket. I like crispy clean money I didn't know I had. ...You get text messages? I know I do. This morning I had two: the first was from JP in Hong Kong and said something along the lines of "Woohoo, it's Friday! Hope you can escape to the pub soon". The second message was from Anna and said something along the lines of "The pub you've frequented for the last eight years burned down last night". Such parity with the texts this morning. Coincidence? Who cares! I got two texts!! ...You see your vet at the baseball game and he totally knows your name AND your dogs' names? I mean, granted he's seen Cassady only about 25 times so far this year, but I didn't even hardly recognize him as the vet without his white coat on. And...